Twenty-Four Years
by Kate Beckett's Golden Snitch
Summary: Drabbles about what the Doctor and River get up to during their twenty-four years in Darillium (contains spoilers for The Husbands of River Song)
1. Chapter 1

1.

They start with the obvious.

It's been so long since he's seen her, and she has yet to experience the full extent of his newer body, so there's not a doubt in their minds what is going to happen first thing after their dinner reservations.

It's dreamy and sweaty and different and perfect.

Completely perfect.

They lie together afterwards, his arm wrapped lazily around her. Her hand rests on top of his chest, cheek on top of his shoulder. She's softly smiling, growing steadily more weary as time goes by.

His hand moves to stroke her unruly hair, his lips to kiss her forehead, and her smile grows.

"Twenty-four years." Her voice is hushed, as if she's uttering a secret. "You weren't kidding about that one, were you?"

"Of course not." His reply is nearly as quiet as her words. "I would never lie about something like that, River. Never."

"Twenty-four years." She repeats, moving so that they're chest to chest and placing a hand on his cheek. "And you're saying I get you for the entire time?" He nods at that, and she beams, but doesn't expel extreme joy, doesn't overdo it.

That's something that he'll always love about her.

"So," He begins again, rather gruffly, adjusting to place both hands behind his neck. "How do you like the new body, now that you've had a go at it?" She laughs, nearly giggles like a little girl.

"I have to say, it's rather magnificent." Her reply is classic, cheeky River, and it makes him want to hold her tightly, forever.

She had said that he didn't love her, that she was completely in love with him but there was not a chance that he would do something so foolishly human as to fall in love.

In reality, she had no idea how wrong she had been.

He's loved her for so, so long, and he doesn't know how he deserves to have her.

There's something in the back of his mind that keeps reminding him how short their time is together, that reminds him how short life can really be.

He can't quite put a finger on why the sting of the thought is so painful. He doesn't remember why it seems to relevant to the present.

But he's trying to focus on now, on the present, on his impending twenty-four years with her, and it's enough to brush the worry and pain from his mind.

She kisses his cheek, settles back down into his arms and pulls the duvet up closer to her collarbone.

"Goodnight, Doctor." He smiles back at her, watches as her words fade into a yawn.

"Goodnight, River."


	2. Chapter 2

2.

"How long has it been?"

"Hmm?" Her gaze moves from the towers to meet his. They've been spending a lot of time watching the Singing Towers of Darillium, listening to the different scores that they produce.

He's parked the TARDIS just outside of the restaurant, and they sit just inside, both doors open to let the sounds and breezes of the planet into the ship.

However long they sit, hand in hand, the sight nor the songs never grow old.

"Since what?" He pauses, doesn't answer for a moment, letting his head bow so that he's looking at their hands entwined together.

"Since Manhattan." He feels her tense slightly, and he knows it must've been recent, that she hasn't had time to numb the pain from that, not yet.

Although, as strong of a women as River is, he's not sure exactly how she'll be able to numb that sting at all.

"Not long." She answers, her thumb methodically tracing circles on his hand. "Well, not long since the moment you came to me."

He looks back into her eyes, and it hits him, suddenly and very hard, how much pain he can see within her.

"River." He wants to say more, wants to hold her and let her cry and mourn, properly mourn for the loss of her parents and, in fact, all the events of that day.

But she would never want that. She would never want to be the one being coddled and comforted.

So he squeezes her hand, the smallest comfort he can offer discreetly.

"It must've been a while for you, then." She hastily wipes her eyes with the palm of her free hand, brushing away tears he hasn't even noticed were present.

"A while, yeah." To be completely honest, he's not entirely sure how long it's been, how many millions of years it could have possibly been since Manhattan.

All he knows is that every time he recalls it, the pain feels as fresh as if the wound had been carved the day before.

"It's funny." Her lips curve into a soft smile, and she looks at him, really looks directly at him. "You could've been through so much since I last saw you, you know. You could've had dozens of companions, faced countless hoards of Daleks and Cybermen and Slitheen and I have no idea."

"Not countless." He counters, smiling with her. "Maybe just a few armies. Nothing I couldn't handle."

"I hope you haven't been traveling alone, Doctor." She sounds almost wistful, and at that moment he wants nothing more then to shut the TARDIS doors and fly away, together, and never leave her ever again. "You always do better with someone at your side."

The soft song of the towers begins again, a low, sweet tune that seems to envelope them and the entire spaceship with its silky sound.

An ever changing song. One that consistently flows into the next verse seamlessly, but yet completely different then the stanza before.

Sort of like him.

Sort of like her.

"I miss them." She lets her head rest against her shoulder, looking back towards the softly humming forms. "No matter how long it's been, River, I'll always miss your parents. It's never stopped hurting, not really."

"Perhaps it will someday." He feels her exhale a shaky breath. "Maybe now that you're here, it might cease just a bit."

She's right, as per usual. Because as much as it hurts to think of, having River, his River right beside him seems to numb the hurt the tiniest bit.

He knows that letting her go will be one of the hardest things that he'll ever need to do. He's known it for a long time, really. He thought, perhaps, that he'd already experienced their goodbye.

Every bone, every muscle, every fibre in his entire being burns at the idea of her going back to the first time he met her.

But he pushes it aside for now.

Now, he has her, and he has her for longer then he's ever consecutively had her before.

He pushes aside the negativity, and thinks about how lucky he is to have her.

The song of the towers of Darillium is just like them, in a way.

Somehow, it will never end.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

He hasn't gotten sick in three hundred years.

Timelords don't usually catch viruses from others. In fact, the immune system of a timelord usually repels bacteria like no other system in the universe.

However, sometimes, once in a blue moon, he catches something, some bug floating around the atmosphere.

Of course it happens while he's with River.

Three hundred years, and his immune system picks now to go off for a pudding break?

Of course.

She brings him some soup and tea and quite a lot of tissues, makes sure he's comfortable in his bed.

It's wildly domestic, and he can just tell how much fun she's having, playing house.

It's just a cold he's diagnosed himself with. Stuffed nose, sore throat, slight fever. All symptoms of the most common human illness in the book.

Still, she makes him rest.

"Darling, when you're ill, it's much easier for infections to spread." She explains as if he's a child, while cleaning the dirty tissues from his bedspread. "Weakened immune system, remember? Especially timelord immune systems. Those are a difficulty."

"I know, River." He grumbles, holding back the instinct to roll his eyes because this is ridiculous and he is fine and he should be able to do things when he has a cold.

She looks pointedly at him, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

"I know that tone." He raises his eyebrows too, matching her indignant look. "You may think you're invincible, but you need a rest just like every other being in the galaxy."

"Not every other being." He grumbles, and she rolls her eyes, going back to fetch the rest of the phlegm-infested tissues from the mattress. "It's just a cold. A tiny human cold. I'm sure I can get up and walk arou-"

And suddenly he's accosted by a sneak cough attack.

Brilliant way to prove a point.

When he's finally managed to stop coughing, throat burning and cheeks flaming red, he sees her, offering him a mug filled with water. She's definitely smirking, like she always does when she's proven somewhat correct.

He both loves and hates that expression.

"Thanks." He mutters, accepting the mug and taking a sip of the crisp, cool water. She sits sideways on his bed, her eyes tender despite the smirk on her mouth.

"It's alright to take a break sometimes." She takes his hand in both of hers. "How about, just for once, you let me take care of you? Just for another day, I promise. I'll be surprised at how much better you'll feel." She leans forward so their noses are almost touching, placing a hand on his cheek. "Just relax."

He almost smiles, then.

He hates being babied as much as she does. Always has, always will.

But being babied by River, he's decided, could be a whole lot worse than the treatment he's getting right now.

"Fine." She smiles too, a real, genuine smile, and presses her lips to his forehead.

"Good." And she pulls back, keeping one hand on his. "I promise, the next time I get sick, you can serve back exactly what I'm doing to you."

"River, you never get sick." She bites her lip, and he smiles, really smiles.

"Well, Doctor, neither do you."


End file.
